If You Don't Know Me By Now
by steph84
Summary: What if Voldemort hadn't gotten what he wanted out of Ginny Weasley? What if he turned to Hermione next?
1. An Attack

"Not funny, Ron!"  
  
Seventeen-year old Hermione Granger made a grab for her History of Magic report, but Ron Weasley held it out of her reach, grinning like mad.  
  
"Isn't this fun?" he crowed, teasing her with the paper.  
  
"Loads," she replied grumpily as she made another desperate grab for it.  
  
"Thanks," Harry said as he came up behind Ron and grabbed the piece of parchment out of Ron's hands. Handing it to Hermione, who smiled gratefully at him, he took a seat across the library table from his two bickering friends. For as long as he could remember, these two had been fighting. Harry was convinced that they should be a couple, but they disagreed, and it had been apparent from seven years of fighting that remaining just friends might have been a good idea. Harry was afraid that if they pursued a relationship with each other, one of them would wind up dead.  
  
"You two should really get studying," Hermione said, going back to work on her report. "Exams are coming up soon."  
  
"Soon?" exclaimed Ron, his eyes widening. "Yeah, right, Hermione, get a calendar! Exams are still three months away! It's only the beginning of April!"  
  
"Yeah, but this is our final year," Hermione answered, not looking up from her report. "You could seriously screw up your grades this year, Ron."  
  
Ron looked to Harry for help, but Harry just nodded. "She's right, you know."  
  
"When isn't she right?" Ron grumbled, sliding down in his seat. He continued to mumble for the next half an hour while Harry and Hermione worked on some homework. Packing up for supper, they left the library together, Ron still sulking at being scolded by Hermione, yet again.  
  
The Great Hall was packed as always, but there was an unusual lull in the normal activities. Hermione noticed it the second she entered the room and she shared glances with her friends before they took their seats at the Gryffindor table. Looking around, Hermione tried to spot the reason for the silence and it was then that she noticed Professor McGonagall missing from the Head Table. McGonagall had been in class earlier that morning, but she had announced that all her afternoon classes were to be cancelled, due to a trip she had to take.  
  
"I won't be more than a few hours," she told her class as they concentrated on their work. "I should be back by suppertime this evening." But as Hermione looked up at the table, McGonagall's seat was empty.  
  
"Where's Professor McGonagall?" Ron asked, leaning over the table to whisper to Hermione. She looked at him in annoyance.  
  
"Don't you remember her telling us she had to take a trip in class this morning?" she hissed. "She probably just hasn't gotten back yet." But even as she spoke, she could detect a definite note of despair in her voice. Something wasn't right.  
  
Moments later, Professor Dumbledore stood up at the Head Table and raised his hands for silence, which wasn't overly necessary considering no one was talking in the first place.  
  
"As you may have noticed," he began, "Professor McGonagall's seat is empty tonight." He looked over his glasses directly at the Gryffindor table. "I'm sure many of you heard that she had to take a trip this afternoon. And I'll bet you're wondering why she's not back."  
  
"Well, duh," said Harry quietly and Ron laughed. Hermione shushed them both and turned her attention back to Dumbledore.  
  
Dumbledore's face began to twist as he spoke the next words. "It is my regret to inform you that Professor McGonagall was attacked during her trip today." He paused for the students to gasp in shock. When they had calmed down again, Dumbledore began answering the questions on every student's mind. "She is fine," he assured them, "just fine. She is a little disoriented at what happened, but has been taken to St. Mungo's and will be properly treated there."  
  
"What happened?" called someone from the Ravenclaw table and Dumbledore nodded his head in that direction.  
  
"We are unsure exactly of what has happened to her," he said carefully, "but the Ministry is suspecting the attack came at the hands of Lord Voldemort."  
  
As usual, the loud gasps filled the Hall and Hermione caught Harry rolling his eyes at the reaction. Voldemort had been back for almost two years now; as far as Harry was concerned, the matter of his name was getting ridiculous.  
  
"I don't want anyone to worry," Dumbledore continued, "and we will carry on our daily lives as they pass. Professor McGonagall will be returned to the castle tomorrow morning and her classes will commence the following Monday. You may begin." Dumbledore sat down and a stunned Great Hall full of students began to eat slowly.  
  
"Classes will commence Monday?" Ron looked utterly perplexed. "Does that mean they're cancelled until then?"  
  
"I guess so," Harry said, digging into the food on the table before him. "Sad thing, about McGonagall, isn't it?" He paused and looked at Hermione.  
  
"Yeah. I wonder what happened." Hermione's own vague response was sparked by Harry's lack of sensitivity. She had found that ever since that fateful fifth year, Harry had changed. His life had changed drastically and ever since then, he hadn't been the same. His emotional tolerance wavered at times, ranging from powerful tears to silent treatments. She was worried, but he had survived so far.  
  
They continued their dinner, not feeling very hungry and returned to the common room soon after where they found Professor Binns waiting. Professor Binns was the only ghost teacher and the professor of History of Magic. He looked up slowly from the book that he was reading, acknowledging their entrance.  
  
"Are you our Head of House until Professor McGonagall gets back?" Ron blurted out and Harry shoved him. "What?"  
  
Professor Binns nodded slowly. "Until Monday," he said, turning back to his book.  
  
Hermione knew very well that they couldn't talk about what was happening in here with Professor Binns sitting just a few feet away. It was on the tip of her tongue to propose going outside to chat, but she mentally denied the idea, choosing to go upstairs to bed.  
  
"But it's not even eight!" Ron cried, watching her departing back.  
  
"I'm tired," she replied, climbing the stairs. "Goodnight." 


	2. These Dreams

True to Dumbledore's word, the following Monday, Professor McGonagall was back in class, prepared to pick up right where she left off. Several students asked her what had happened, but she wouldn't answer, telling them that it was none of their business.  
  
"How are you feeling, Professor?" Hermione asked as she entered the room and took her seat.  
  
McGonagall looked sterner than ever, but her face softened slightly at Hermione's question. "Better, Miss Granger, much better, thank you." Turning to the class, she said, "Now, we've got a lot of work to catch up on, so I hope you are all prepared."  
  
After class, Ron caught up with Hermione and Harry. "Had to stay behind," he huffed. "Apparently I suck at transfiguring teacup saucers into mice. Who would have thought?"  
  
"Wasn't it weird how McGonagall wouldn't talk about what happened?" Harry asked, thoughtfully.  
  
"Not really," replied Hermione, although she very much agreed. "Would you want the entire world knowing you were attacked by Voldemort?" She winced. Although she had been using his name for two years, it still drove a stake into her throat every time she said it.  
  
"Regardless," Ron said, still trying to catch his breath, "I think the whole thing is wacky. McGonagall, a professor at Hogwarts, being attacked by You-Know-Who. Funny how she wasn't attacked at school."  
  
"Not really, Ron." It was Hermione's turn to look thoughtful. "Voldemort is scared of Dumbledore. There's no way he would even try to attack a teacher while they're on school grounds. He simply waited until one of ours left the premises." Her explanation seemed simple enough but behind her words, she was shaking. She was due to take the train home to her parents' for her grandmother's birthday in a week. They would be transported in groups, all the people that were taking the train that day, but it was still a frightening thought.  
  
Hermione worked hard that evening, trying to catch up on all the work McGonagall had assigned. She didn't mind it much; it kept her busy, that was for sure. But Harry and Ron's complaining drove her mad.  
  
"If I have to read one more thing on cross-transfiguration, I think I'll go cross-eyed!" cried Ron, throwing down his quill in frustration. "I can't do this stuff! I don't get it."  
  
"We've been doing cross-transfiguration for a few years now, Ron. How come you just don't seem to get it now?" Hermione put down her own quill to interrogate him.  
  
"Because I'm a dunce," Ron said moodily, crossing his arms across his chest and pouting.  
  
"Not a dunce, Ron!" Harry said cheerfully, still working on his work. "Just slow is all."  
  
Ron shot Harry a dirty look and Hermione intercepted before anything else could be said. Tensions had been high ever since Voldemort returned, but this year they were hitting a whole new record. Even teachers were snapping at each other. It was a tough time and Dumbledore's encouragement of sticking together was running thinner and thinner with each passing day. He kept reminding them that they were all friends under the roof, but Hermione found that advice was slowly slipping away, too.  
  
"Okay, you guys, enough," she said, holding up her hands. "Let's get back to work."  
  
"I don't want to work anymore," Ron said, slamming his book shut. "I guess I'm too slow for his royal highness here." Harry's jaw dropped. "So I guess I'll just go up to bed."  
  
"You rotten, no-good prat," Harry muttered under his breath as soon as Ron was out of sight. Harry didn't seem to care much about fighting lately, as long as he got his two cents worth in.  
  
Hermione shook her head and chose to ignore the snide comments coming from Harry every once in awhile. Almost an hour later, Hermione also decided to go up to bed. Bidding Harry goodnight, she packed up her things and started climbing the stairs to her dorm.  
  
It was that night that the nightmares started. Hermione couldn't really call them nightmares considering she felt like she was awake the entire time. A strong pair of unfamiliar hands came across her throat, but gently. It felt like someone was trying to put a spell on her, but they couldn't quite seem to figure out how. Over and over again she felt the cold hands until she awoke with a start. The cold hands just happened to be the breeze from the open window beside her bed. She got up and closed the window slightly, causing the drapes to quit blowing softly. She sat for a moment on the windowsill, reflecting on what a lucid dream she had just had. What did it mean, though? Deciding she would look it up in her dream dictionary the next morning, she went back to bed and fell into a peaceful slumber. 


	3. Forewarning

Hermione didn't have a chance to dwell on her dream the following day for it started off hectic. She awoke late, leaving her to dash around the dorm, trying to get things ready for the day. Skipping breakfast, she hurried straight to Transfiguration where Ron and Harry were waiting for her. They appeared to have patched up their previous argument for they were both laughing and joking.  
  
"Here." Ron shoved an envelope into her hands when she appeared. "An owl brought this for you at breakfast."  
  
"Where were you?" Harry asked and for a moment, Hermione saw a bit of the old Harry in his face.  
  
"I woke up late," she told them, opening the envelope and pulling the letter out. "I was having these really weird dreams and I couldn't sleep very well the first part of the night." She became silent as her eyes scanned over the pages. "Oh, great!" she cried when she had finished reading the letter.  
  
"What?" the boys asked in unison.  
  
"My grandmother wants me to come in earlier to meet some distant relatives of mine," she replied, throwing her hands up in the air. "I'm supposed to take the train tomorrow."  
  
"But tomorrow's only Wednesday!" Ron cried, looking forlorn. Harry grinned at his friend's reaction. "You're not supposed to leave until Friday."  
  
"You think I don't know that?" Hermione read the letter again. "What can I do?" she sighed. "I'll have to go early. Fighting with my family is one thing you don't want to do."  
  
"But, isn't your family Muggles?" Ron asked, confusion filling his face.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Then why wouldn't you want to cross them?"  
  
Harry and Hermione shared a look. "Because it will make them angry," Hermione answered slowly.  
  
"But aren't all Muggles nice?" Ron asked, more confusion in his eyes.  
  
"Not even close, Ron," Hermione said as the lesson began. "Not even close."  
  
That afternoon, Hermione went to Dumbledore's office with the letter where he greeted her warmly. "Sit down, Miss Granger! Would you care for a cup of tea?"  
  
"No, thank you, Professor. I've come here for a reason." She handed the letter to him and glanced around the office as he read it. She had always liked his office, full of mementos and pieces from the past. It was a comforting place and she enjoyed being in it.  
  
Dumbledore's face was creased with worry. "This presents a bit of a problem, I'm afraid," he said slowly, studying the letter. "As you know, there is a group of students planning on taking the train home on Friday. Normally, we only allow students to take the train during the week if it is an emergency."  
  
"I see," Hermione said quietly. Inside, she was brewing with happiness. It wasn't as if she didn't love her family, because she did, quite dearly. It was just that every year was the same. A boring party with boring guests and she was never allowed to bring a friend. It was uninteresting for a girl her age and she secretly wouldn't mind just sending her grandmother a gift from school.  
  
"However," continued the headmaster, "considering your excellent status as Head Girl, I've decided to make an exception." He beamed at her.  
  
"Um, thanks, Professor Dumbledore," she stumbled, unable to decide how she felt about this. He went on to tell her that the following day, she would travel to Hogsmeade Station and take the train from there to King's Cross. "You have a choice of travelling to Hogsmeade," he told her, studying her carefully. "You can either take a carriage or, if you have light luggage, walk. The station isn't far from the Main Street."  
  
Hermione considered these options silently. She hated taking the carriages. Quite often, they made her feel nauseous. But did she really want to walk with Voldemort running on the loose? When reality kicked back into her mind, she figured what were the chances of being struck down by Voldemort in broad daylight in a well-populated area?  
  
It happened to Professor McGonagall, said the small voice in the back of her mind, but she overrode it when she said, "I'll walk, thank you, Professor. I won't have very much luggage."  
  
He nodded, looking unperturbed at her answer and that relieved Hermione a little. If Dumbledore was willing to give her that choice and seemed unconcerned at her answer, then there was nothing to worry about. Right? 


	4. There's No Place Like Home

Thursday morning before class started, Hermione began throwing together a quick bag of clothes and objects she might need. She loved going home, but hated it at the same time. She couldn't use magic there and it drove her insane to revert back to her old Muggle ways. It took her half the time she was home just to remember how to use everything.  
  
Rushing, not used to be so disorganized, she managed to cram everything she wanted to bring into one small bag. A little moderation spell and the bag had shrunk noticeably in size. She tossed it on her bed for easy access when the day was done.  
  
Her morning classes passed quickly and when she joined Ron and Harry in the Great Hall for lunch, she found that her appetite had decreased rapidly over the morning. When she sat down, she felt utterly revolted at the food in front of her.  
  
"What's wrong?" Harry asked, his mouth full of shepherd's pie.  
  
"Nothing, I don't think," Hermione replied, clutching her stomach. "I just have a really bad feeling about something."  
  
"You were fine this morning. It's too early to begin worrying about exams," Ron said soothingly but Hermione shook her head. "Is it about your family thing that you have to go to?"  
  
"I don't know," Hermione replied as the clenching her in stomach passed. "I honestly don't know what it is. But it's gone now, so I'm not going to dwell on it."  
  
Throughout the entire discussion, Harry had been somewhat quiet. Upon looking at him, Hermione noticed that he had cast his eyes downwards and was poking at his food with his fork. He looked thoughtful, yet concerned, but Hermione wasn't going to push him into saying anything.  
  
"So the guy comes into Fred and George's store and asks if they have any prank jokes!" Ron crowed. He had been telling a story about his brothers' joke shop in Diagon Alley, but upon looking at his friends, he noticed that neither of them was listening. "Sorry if I'm boring you!" he sniffed.  
  
Hermione snapped to attention. "You're not boring us!" she cried. "I'm just thinking."  
  
It looked like it was on the tip of Ron's tongue to ask what was going on, but he kept silent, noticing that Harry was still in deep thought. He continued eating, watching his friends over his plate.  
  
After lunch, Hermione stood up and began to walk away. Then she remembered that she wouldn't see her friends until after she came back so she turned into hallway to wave to them. "I'll see you on Monday!" she cried over the heads of people that were filing out of the Hall.  
"Have fun!" Ron called back, smiling, but Harry simply waved. Ron noticed the hesitation and as Hermione left, he asked, "What's wrong with you?"  
  
"Nothing," Harry said, watching Hermione's departing back. "Just a bad feeling."  
  
Ron rolled his eyes. "Great! My two best friends are both crazy!" And with that, he and Harry left the Great Hall for class.  
  
After Hermione's last lesson of the day, she flew upstairs to grab her bag and after one more moderation spell to make the bag even lighter, she left for the front entrance of the school where she was surprised to see Professor Dumbledore waiting for her.  
  
"Just wanted to see you off," he said, but she knew he just wanted to see if she would change her mind about how she was getting to Hogsmeade.  
  
"Thank you, Professor," she said, grinning. "I'll be fine. I'll see you Sunday." And then she began walking across the grounds to the pathway that led into Hogsmeade. She was aware that Professor Dumbledore was still watching her as she walked out of sight and she fought every temptation to turn and run back to him. Her fear increased as she walked along the path, especially during the dark, forestry area, but she soon emerged into the sunshine, thankful for the sensation of relief. She was in the centre of the Hogsmeade village and she began walking happily to the train station.  
  
The ride home was fairly uneventful. She wrote a letter to Ron and Harry on the way, just to pass time. The train was littered with other witches and wizards eager to get into London via train and Hermione was lucky to get a compartment to herself. She sat quietly, looking out the window at the passing hills, unsure of what to write to her friends, whom she had seen a few hours previous.  
  
"I never realized how beautiful the scenery really was on the train ride," she wrote, speaking aloud to herself. "You two are usually here annoying me to no end, but today, as I write this alone, I wish I had your company." She paused to reflect on what she had written so far and eventually decided that was enough. "See you in a few days, all my love, Hermione." She put it safely in her bag so she could send it with the owl she kept at home as soon as she arrived. Pulling out her Astronomy work, she began studying the placement of planetary moons and how it reflected with the Earth. She got so lost in her work that the next time she looked up, they were pulling into King's Cross.  
  
In groups of three or four, they began to fall through the brick wall that separated the wizarding world from the Muggle one. Her parents greeted her as soon as she fell through and she had to admit she was extremely happy to see them.  
  
"You certainly packed light," her father said, picking up her bag and holding it tentatively. He looked at her quizzically and she just smiled knowingly. They left King's Cross then, heading for the family car.  
  
"Grandma's so excited to see you!" her mother told her as they drove towards their home on the other side of London. "As you know, she's getting on in age, but please don't forget, we told her you attended an all- girls' school in London."  
  
"I know, Mum," Hermione said, a little irritated at the fact her mother found it necessary to remind her, but also annoying that they were keeping up with the façade. What would happen if Hermione decided to move to the wizarding world when she finished school? How would they explain her absence then?  
  
Hermione didn't let it bother her for the rest of the week as her grandmother's party approached. She met cousins she didn't even know existed and while talking to them kept receiving pleading looks from her mother. She could practically read her mother's thoughts: Please, Hermione, don't let on what school you've been at. Please!  
  
The rest of the weekend passed quickly and Hermione found her cousins' attendance to be a thrill during the party. Her two cousins, Megan and Rhea, were around her age and extremely funny. The three girls spent the majority of the party laughing and joking in Hermione's parents' bedroom, watching television.  
  
I miss this, Hermione thought to herself as she ate popcorn and watched funny movies. I love Hogwarts, but I miss this. The party seemed to end sooner than it had in previous years and before Hermione knew it, the guests had all left, including her cousins, and she was getting ready for bed. The following morning her parents would take her to King's Cross again and she would venture, once more, to Hogwarts, her second home. 


	5. Meeting Tom

She another ominous dream that night, only this one was a little different. She was walking somewhere dark, but she couldn't be sure of where. There was a distinct buzzing sound somewhere in the distance. She met a stranger, but couldn't see his face for he was half-hidden in the shadows. No matter how much she tried, the stranger wouldn't reveal himself. He spoke to her as if he was warning her of something, but disappeared before she could ask anything else. The buzzing noise increased in sound and Hermione awoke to the buzzing of her alarm clock. Rolling over and groaning, she hit the snooze button. It was only seven a.m. Her train didn't leave until noon. She still had plenty of time.  
  
When she awoke again, it was a quarter to nine. Her alarm was distinctly buzzing, yet she chose to ignore it. Yawning, she rolled over to face the wall and drifted into sleep again. When she awoke the third time, it was nearing ten o'clock and she decided that she had better get up. Throwing on her housecoat, she trudged downstairs, still feeling sleepy.  
  
"Morning, sleepyhead!" her father teased. "Is that what that school is doing to you? Making you sleep late every morning?"  
  
"Morning, Dad," she said, sitting down at the table. Her mother placed a cup of coffee in front of her and she drank it slowly. Her parents began asking her questions about her schooling this year and about her NEWTs. Before they realized it, it was almost eleven fifteen. They had forty-five minutes to get Hermione packed and off to the train station.  
  
It was possible. The Granger family car rolled into King's Cross at eleven fifty-five, giving Hermione five minutes to fall casually through the barrier and grab a seat on the train. She kissed her parents goodbye, promising to write as soon as she could, and headed for her train.  
  
The train was much more packed than it was when Hermione came home. She couldn't find an empty compartment so she asked a young man who looked her age if she could share his compartment. He looked up from his book slowly and nodded before continuing to read.  
  
Hermione got settled in the seat across from him. She couldn't resist looking at the title of his book.  
  
"Oooh! 'Running with Vampires'! I love that book!"  
  
"Oh yeah?" The boy looked up and Hermione noticed how striking his blue eyes were. His face was pale but it could have just been the fact that his hair was jet-black and gave off the appearance that his face was pale. He was handsome and Hermione looked away from him, blushing. "It's my favourite book, too," he said. His voice was soft, but she detected a small hint of arrogance.  
  
"I've read it at least five or six times," she said, suddenly feeling shy around the good-looking boy.  
  
"Same as me." She raised her glance to meet his and was shocked to see that his eyes had almost changed colour. They appeared more of a greenish-hazel now. She said nothing, but he noticed her staring.  
  
"I'm trying to alter my appearance on command," he answered her unasked question.  
  
"What are you doing here?" she blurted out. Her curiosity got the better of her.  
  
"I'm going to visit a friend of mine at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," he said. "How about you?"  
  
"I go to school at Hogwarts!" she exclaimed, rather excited at the prospect of seeing this boy around school for awhile. "It's nice there," she finished, feebly.  
  
"I know. I've been there before." The boy got a distance look in his eyes and Hermione left him alone for a few moments. She stared out the train window at the passing scenery.  
  
"What's your name?"  
  
She looked back at him. "Hermione Granger. What's yours?"  
  
"Tom," he answered.  
  
"Don't you have a last name, Tom?"  
  
"Not one that I'd like to talk about."  
  
Hermione nodded, although she couldn't understand why. He must have had his reasons so she left it at that. She found she could talk just as openly and as candidly with Tom as she could with either Harry or Ron. They discussed everything from the Ministry of Magic to the latest Quidditch news. Hermione was grateful she had listened to Ron and Harry discuss the latest Quidditch status last week. In all the excitement, Hermione never thought to ask Tom what school he went to.  
  
When they arrived in Hogsmeade, Tom got out of the compartment first, standing out of the way for Hermione to go first. As they exited the train together and started heading for Hogwarts, Hermione noticed that Tom didn't have any luggage with him. She mentioned it as they approached the path that led to the school.  
  
"I already sent my stuff ahead," he answered quickly, pausing at the entrance to the tree-covered pathway. "Would you like to get a drink or something before we go to the school?"  
  
Looking at her watch, she noticed that she was supposed to meet Ron and Harry in half an hour. But what would one drink hurt?  
  
"Sure!" she replied. "Why not?" And the two of them headed off towards the Main Street again. When Tom started to head away from the Three Broomsticks, Hermione pulled him back. "Where are you going?"  
  
"The Hog's Head," he replied simply, as if she should have known that. Hermione shuddered but followed him. She had only been in there a few times before, but was never eager to go back. The Hog's Head attracted a far less civilized group of witches and wizards.  
  
Upon entering the tavern, Hermione thought that the room had gone silent. Shocked glances stared at them from every angle and Hermione felt herself checking to see if she had cabbage or something stuck between her teeth. When she found nothing there, she followed Tom self-consciously up to the bar where he ordered two Butterbeers for them. When the drinks arrived, the tavern still silent, Tom proposed that they go sit in a quiet, dark corner with their drinks.  
  
Hermione agreed, hating to be the centre of attention. They sat down at the most deserted table area in the entire inn and began sipping their drinks. Once again, they delved into conversations about school and how appropriate the lessons they were teaching were.  
  
"What school do you go to?" Hermione asked, drawing a finger around the rim of her glass. She tried to look cute while doing it, but was also trying to clean the dirt off of it before she took another drink.  
  
It took Tom a moment to answer. He made a big show of taking a drink and swallowing it. "Durmstrang," he finally answered and Hermione felt a pang of guilt. She had been writing a student there awhile back, but they hadn't kept in contact after he left school.  
  
"I thought that school studied a lot of Dark Arts," she said, still cleaning the rim of her glass.  
  
"It does." Tom's voice had a note of finality in it, so she dropped the subject, instead asking whom his favourite Quidditch player was.  
  
An hour had gone by before Hermione realized the time. She jumped up, knocking over what was left of her Butterbeer. "Oh no!" she cried. "I was supposed to meet my friends thirty minutes ago!"  
"We should go then," Tom said, standing up. He began to walk out of the tavern and Hermione followed him quickly, apologizing for the mess she had left on the table. They quickly approached the walkway and Tom slowed his pace.  
  
"I like walking through here," he said as they entered it and the trees shaded them from the afternoon sun. "It's peaceful. And private."  
  
"Right," Hermione said, rushing along. She was worried that if her friends didn't find her in the castle, they would think something had happened to her on the journey back. She didn't want to worry them, so she tried to edge Tom along as fast as he would go.  
  
He was behind her and she turned to look at him. He had stopped several feet behind her and was staring at her oddly. "Tell me about your background," he said strangely.  
  
"Um, there's not much to tell," she replied, grinding to a halt as well.  
  
"Are you a pureblood?"  
  
Something in his voice irritated her and she found he sounded an awful lot like Draco Malfoy when he was taunting her about it. The defiance in her mind forced her to answer, "Yes. One of the few families left."  
  
"I didn't know the name Granger carried pure blood with it," Tom said, smiling bizarrely. He approached her slowly. "But if you say so, I guess I'll believe you."  
  
Hermione began to feel very uneasy at the whole thing and a sharp pang in the side of her stomach caused her to drop her bag. She clutched the spot in pain as Tom approached her. "I won't hurt you, Hermione," he said, his voice dark and shallow. "I promise. But I need you to do something for me."  
  
Hermione doubled over, more from fear then pain. She continued to clutch her side and soon felt Tom's hands on either side of her waist. He drew her close to him and put his hand on her abdomen. For a split second, she could have sworn she heard voices. Then they came back, louder and more distinct than before.  
  
"I didn't get enough from dear Ginny, Hermione. She was a pureblood and that matters, but my choices are running low. You're brilliant, just like me. Together, we can create sparks. Together, we can create a magic that even dear old Hogwarts can't teach. If we were just one person, Hermione Granger, we would be dynamic. So let it be."  
  
With a sharp force, he pushed her by the abdomen and she fell to the cobblestone walkway in tears. When she looked up several minutes later, Tom was nowhere to be found. 


	6. Returns

Sobbing hysterically, Hermione managed to drag her luggage back to the castle, crawling all the way. She did not feel physically injured, although her back was aching from the fall, but her mind was scarred. The things she had seen when he had touched her. Never before had she come in such close contact with death itself.  
  
Deciding that Durmstrang had taught Tom enough for him to want to try it on someone that wasn't from his school, she dragged herself up the steps of Hogwarts, never more happy to see it in her life. Standing uneasily, she wobbled a bit before making her way to the Gryffindor common room. The Fat Lady in the portrait glared at her apprehensively as Hermione gave the password. The Fat Lady swung open and Hermione entered, feeling absolutely drained. All she wanted to do was go lie down, but Ron, Harry and Ginny, all sitting in front of the fire, faced her.  
  
"Hermione!" Ron's cry startled her and she wobbled again. Realizing that she must look a fright, she put a hand to her head and tried to straighten out her wild hair. "What the hell happened to you?"  
  
Pulling twigs and leaves out of her hair and straightening her clothes, Hermione replied, "I fell." The three of her friends surrounded her. Ginny laid a hand on Hermione's arm to keep her from wobbling again.  
  
Harry, sensing the bitterness in her voice, said, "Fell where?"  
  
"On the pathway between Hogwarts and Hogsmeade, alright?" Hermione snapped, immediately feeling bad at the hurt look on Harry's face. Unable to control her fury anymore, she burst into angry tears. "It was horrible!" she cried. Ginny moved out of the way so they could lead her to the couch in front of the fire. Ron took Hermione's bag, which she was still madly clutching in her right hand, and set it down beside the couch.  
  
"What was horrible?" Ginny asked softly.  
  
"I met this guy on the train," Hermione began, hiccupping softly, "and we went for a drink in the Hog's Head."  
  
"Why the Hog's Head?" Harry asked, almost accusingly. "Why not the Three Broomsticks?"  
  
"I don't know!" Hermione sobbed. "Tom said that he wanted to go to the Hog's Head."  
  
"Tom?" asked Harry and Ginny in unison. Sharing a look, leaving Ron totally baffled, Ginny asked, "What did this Tom look like?"  
  
"Dark black hair, blue eyes that kind of freaked me out, taller than me." Hermione wiped her nose on her sleeve.  
Ginny gasped and Harry closed his eyes. "Did he give a last name?" Harry asked, his eyes still shut, as if he were trying to shut out the world.  
  
"No."  
  
"That's him." Ginny's voice was small and shaky. "That's him, Harry." She looked at Harry with frightened eyes and Harry nodded slowly to himself.  
  
"Who?" Hermione was becoming frustrated at the prospect of being left out of the conversation. "Who was it?"  
  
"Tom Riddle." Harry's voice was clear, but Hermione's mind fogged over. The name was familiar, yet in her puzzled mind, she couldn't place it.  
  
"Voldemort," Ginny said softly. Suddenly, it clicked in Hermione's mind and she began sobbing wildly. Professor McGonagall who had just entered the room soon heard her uncontrollable cries.  
  
"What is going on here?" she said, storming over to the couch. When she saw the state of Hermione, her voice softened. "What happened?"  
  
Hermione listened half-heartedly as Harry relayed the story to Professor McGonagall. When he finished, McGonagall's eyes were as wide as Ginny's. "Are you alright, Miss Granger?" she asked, kneeling down to Hermione's height. "Did he do anything to you?"  
  
"No," Hermione lied. She didn't know what Tom had done to her so she felt it better to stay quiet on the matter. She took deep steadying breaths as McGonagall asked her if she wanted to go to the infirmary. Hermione shook her head no. "I just want to go to bed."  
  
"Okay." Professor McGonagall stood up. "Miss Weasley, please take Miss Granger to her dormitory where she can lie down. Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley, please come with me to inform the Headmaster of what has happened. Miss Granger, if you need anything, anything at all, don't hesitate to come see me." With a pitiful glance, McGonagall left the room, Harry and Ron following her.  
  
Ginny helped Hermione climb the staircase to the girls' dormitories, although she didn't really need the help and was just grateful for the company. She was especially grateful that it was Professor McGonagall who heard her story, as she, too, had been attacked by Voldemort and knew how it felt.  
  
"He didn't possess you, did he?" Ginny asked quietly when Hermione had gotten into bed. She had tried to leave, but Hermione had begged her not to, wanting the company.  
  
"No." Hermione sniffled. "But he did this funny thing. He brought me close to him and put his hand on my stomach. And-I know this is going to sound crazy, Ginny, but I swear, I heard his thoughts."  
  
Ginny had gone paler than Hermione had ever seen her before. "He put his hand to your stomach?" she asked, her face contorted in fear.  
  
"Didn't you hear the other part, Ginny? I heard his thoughts!"  
  
Ginny nodded vacantly, but her mind was occupied with the fact that Hermione had stated before. She had only heard of that happening one other time, but she was sworn to secrecy about that. She kept her thoughts on it to herself and said, "Maybe you should have told McGonagall."  
  
Hermione shook her head. "Why make things worse?" When she glanced at Ginny, she was surprised to see a faint smile. "What's so funny?"  
  
"Nothing's funny," Ginny replied distantly. "It's just that normally you're the one convincing Harry and others to go tell someone about their problems and here I am, trying to convince you to go see either Dumbledore or McGonagall about this thing and you're being stubborn."  
  
"I'm not stubborn," Hermione said, her brow furrowed together. "I'm just right." 


	7. Future Appointments

Hermione slept through the night and well into the next day. When she awoke, she was surprised to feel calm at the fact that she had missed half a day's worth of lessons, especially after missing so many the previous week for her trip home. She arose slowly, unaware at first of the dizzy feeling that accompanied her. She slouched against the wall, feeling slightly perturbed by the feeling, but it soon passed and she decided that it was just a reaction from her experiences yesterday.  
  
After a long, hot shower, she found she still didn't want to attend class, and it was apparent from the silence in Gryffindor tower that no one was planning on forcing her. Instead she sat on her bed tentatively as if it would break underneath her weight and wrote nonsense words slowly on a blank piece of parchment. She wrote whatever thoughts invaded her mind, many of the dark and mysterious. It was the closest she would ever come to a diary.  
  
After classes ended, Ginny came bounding up the stairs. "Hermione, how are you?" she asked, blatantly surprised to see Hermione sitting up in bed, dressed, doodling on spare pieces of parchment.  
  
"Okay, I guess," Hermione replied rather absentmindedly. She continued to draw long words with her quill, wondering where on earth these words were coming from. They were too sinister of thoughts to be coming from her own brain. However, she didn't stop.  
  
"The boys want to see you," Ginny said cautiously, unsure of why her friend was acting so strangely. "Are you sure Lord Voldemort hasn't possessed you?"  
  
Hermione gave her a shocked look. "Of course he hasn't. Why would you think that?"  
  
Ginny shrugged. "You look like I felt when he possessed me." She was quiet for a moment. "You know you can talk to me whenever you need to, Hermione. I'm always here." She waited for a moment before receiving a genuine smile from her friend.  
  
"Thanks Ginny," Hermione said, smiling gratefully. "I could use a friend like you right now."  
  
Ginny sat on the foot of Hermione's bed. "What are you writing?" she asked, peering over at the parchment.  
  
"I don't know," Hermione replied honestly. "Just things that keep popping into my head."  
  
Ginny caught sight of a few words and felt her breath intake. It was so unlike Hermione to be this disturbed. However, Ginny let it go, seeing as Voldemort had attacked Hermione. "Professor Dumbledore told me he would like to speak with you when you're feeling up to it," she said, watching Hermione's face closely.  
"Okay," Hermione replied, back to the same preoccupied voice. "I think I'll go now."  
  
"Professor McGonagall said you can find her in her classroom and she'll take you."  
  
"Thanks, Ginny." Standing up, determined not to let the dizziness concern Ginny, Hermione made her way downstairs to the common room where she expected to find Ron and Harry, but the common room was empty. Instead, she hurried to the Transfiguration classroom, seeking out Professor McGonagall from behind her desk.  
  
"How are you feeling, Miss Granger?" McGonagall asked as they hurried along the darkening corridor. Outside, storm clouds were quickly brewing in the February sky.  
  
"Alright," answered Hermione, studying the walls intently as they went. She never knew how truly confining this castle seemed. She avoided McGonagall's gaze as they approached the Headmaster's office. After giving the password, Professor McGonagall stood back to let Hermione enter the staircase.  
  
"Aren't you coming with me?" she asked as the staircase began to revolve.  
  
"This is a matter between you and Professor Dumbledore," McGonagall said, just before she disappeared out of sight.  
  
"Miss Granger!" cried one of the portraits in the corner when Hermione entered the room at the top of the circular staircase. "What a pleasant surprise. What are you here for?"  
  
"Not that it matters to you, but Miss Granger and I have some private business to discuss," came the unmistakable voice of Albus Dumbledore. He appeared out of the shadows of the back of his office, smiling at Hermione. Taking her by the arm he ushered her out of his office. "We'll discuss this elsewhere," he said, following her down the staircase. "Too many nosy people in my office."  
  
Hermione found it funny that he referred to the talkative portraits as 'people' and she giggled. Once outside, she let the cool breeze refresh her face as she stared up at the threatening storm clouds.  
  
"Where do you care to begin?" Dumbledore asked her as they settled themselves on a bench by the lake.  
  
Hermione shrugged, looking down at the ground. She didn't want to start anywhere, preferring to pretend the whole thing had never happened. Ginny's advice about telling him about what Tom had done to her skipped out of her mind. It wasn't that big of a deal. Instead, Hermione relieved the whole thing, starting with the train ride and how she had to sit in his compartment because the rest of the train was full. When she finished (her climbing the steps to Hogwarts, feeling utterly grateful) she was in silent tears. Dumbledore handed her a handkerchief, but didn't say anything for several moments. When he did speak, his voice was typically calm.  
  
"Did he touch you in any way?" he asked her and Hermione shook her head no quickly. Perhaps too quickly for the Headmaster stared at her. "Are you sure?"  
  
"No," she cried, bursting into hysterical sobs. "He pulled me close to him and grabbed my stomach and I heard his thoughts!"  
  
Dumbledore didn't react to this. He simply nodded and asked, "What were those thoughts, Hermione?"  
  
This ceased Hermione's cries for a moment as she thought. She hadn't thought about what the thoughts were, just that she had heard them. "I don't remember," she answered honestly several minutes later. "I can't remember. I know they weren't good, nor did I expect them to be. But I honestly can't remember." She looked up at Dumbledore with wide, teary eyes. "I'm losing my mind, too!"  
  
Dumbledore smiled serenely. "You are not losing your mind," he assured her. "Sometimes, when something awful happens, the mind tries to block it out for the safety of the person." He was quiet for a moment, watching a bird skim the semi-frozen lake gently. "However," he said after a moment, "I think I would feel better if Madam Pomfrey examined you."  
  
Hermione made a move to stand up, completely willing. "I'll go now."  
  
"Not now." Dumbledore held up a hand. "Not now," he repeated.  
  
"Then when?"  
  
"In a few weeks, possibly."  
  
Hermione felt thoroughly confused. "Why a few weeks? Wouldn't now be a good idea?"  
  
"By all means, Miss Granger, you may go now, if you wish. But I do request that you go again in a few weeks time."  
  
Hermione felt an unusual burst of rage boil in the pit of her stomach, but she kept it to herself. "Fine," she muttered, feeling unlike herself. "I'll go in a few weeks. How many weeks, exactly?"  
  
Dumbledore smiled, but there was no mistaking the concern and trouble in his eyes. "I think you'll know for yourself," he said, causing Hermione even more anger. How was she to know? She couldn't read his mind. How would she know when he wanted her to go to the infirmary? 


	8. Trials

Five weeks later, Hermione took Dumbledore's advice. She had returned to classes the following Wednesday after the attack and she was bombarded with the silent treatment from a lot of her friends. Even Harry and Ron treated her strangely, but at least they were talking to her. She went through her classes as usual and in the end of March, she began to feel a queasy sickness that left her drained almost every morning. When she confessed this to Ginny, Ginny had the same advice as Dumbledore: "Go see Madam Pomfrey." And two weeks later, Hermione gave in and visited the Hogwarts matron.  
  
Ten minutes after seeing Madam Pomfrey, Hermione wished she had kept to herself. She was sitting on a bed in the infirmary, sobbing quietly, clutching her stomach. She knew something had to be wrong from the beginning, but she didn't dare speak it to anyone. She felt an incredible pain at the options Madam Pomfrey had suggested; one of them completely contradicted everything she stood for, and the other, a complete heartbreak. Unable to choose a path, Hermione sat crying, wishing she had never come to Hogwarts.  
  
That evening, she arrived in the common room after a gruelling day of meetings with Professor McGonagall, Professor Dumbledore, Madam Pomfrey and Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic, all of which, proved useless in Hermione's view. She still had to face reality and accept ignorance no more: she was pregnant.  
  
Sitting on her own bed in her dorm, she still found it hard to believe. Was it truly possible to impregnate someone in the fashion that Tom did to her? It must be, you fool, cried the voice in the back of her head. It happened to you; you can be so dense sometimes.  
  
Hermione was still crying softly when Ginny bounded into her room. Instantly, seeing Hermione crying, clasping her stomach, Ginny knew what had happened. She gathered her friend up in a hug, not saying anything, for she knew words could not cease the pain of the mess.  
  
"Have you decided what you're going to do?" Ginny asked when Hermione had calmed down a little.  
  
Hermione heaved a great sigh. "I don't know. Madam Pomfrey and the Minister both think abortion is the best route. Professor McGonagall is undecided; she just kept muttering, 'I don't know. I really don't know,' over and over again. Professor Dumbledore, as usual, talked sense into everyone and told them that just because it's the Dark Lord's baby," her voice quivered, "doesn't mean that it won't turn out right. I'm the mother, remember?" She convulsed into sobs again. "I don't know, Ginny! I don't want to make this decision! I don't want to kill a baby that hasn't done anything wrong! But I don't want to bring another Voldemort into the world." She spat his name, vowing she should never speak it again. "Abortion goes against everything I stand for and everything I believe in. If he's driven me to that, then I'm a failure in everything I've done."  
  
Ginny didn't follow this logic, but she allowed space because Hermione was upset. Patting her gently on the back, she asked, "Do Harry and Ron know yet?"  
  
Hermione shook her head miserably. With all the thoughts flying around in her head, she completely forgot about them. For the past seven years, it was as if the three of them were attached at the head; not a thought went through one of their minds without the others finding out. It was a natural thing and Hermione logically expected them to know automatically.  
  
"No, they don't know!" she wailed. "I don't know how I'm going to tell them."  
  
"I'll tell them for you."  
  
Hermione smiled through her tears. "Thanks, Ginny. That's sweet, but I think this is something I have to do on my own." Drawing in her breath, she let it out heavily. "But I think I'm going to take a nap now."  
  
Ginny stood up from the bed and left Hermione to sleep. Hermione was one of her good friends; she wanted to help her so badly, but knowing the power of Voldemort from a first hand point of view, Ginny was unable to offer any real advice. She was forced to wonder, however, as she sat in the common room staring into the fire, why Voldemort was reverting back to his teenage self. She knew that he was powerful and had the ability to take on pretty much any form he wanted, but why his teenage self? Couldn't he just have attacked Hermione as the full-grown Voldemort?  
  
Then people would have known who he was, you idiot! called the small voice in her head. Feeling silly for not thinking of it first, Ginny decided to also go to bed early. It had been an emotionally exhausting day for her, so she could barely imagine what it had been like for poor Hermione. Climbing in between the cool sheets of her bed, she drifted into an uncomfortable sleep, filled with dreams of Tom Riddle and how strongly she had felt for him.  
  
Although the teachers tried to keep it quiet, news spread fast of Hermione's condition. The students were unaware as to who the father of Hermione's unborn child was and the teachers were more than reluctant to tell them. Suspecting it would strike more fear into their hearts than was necessary, Dumbledore forbid any teacher to discuss the situation with any student. "Miss Granger's business is her own," he told them firmly and they all solemnly agreed.  
  
Draco Malfoy, however, had a different perspective. "I'll bet it was that fellow from Durmstrang," he said bitterly as he walked by the Gryffindor table during breakfast one morning a week after Hermione discovered that she was pregnant. "You and he were awfully close during our fourth year."  
  
Hermione ducked her head and Ron pulled out his wand, ready to attack Malfoy when Professor McGonagall walked by the table. "Any trouble here?" she asked calmly, eyeing Malfoy directly. Ron scurried to put his wand away.  
  
"No, Professor McGonagall." Malfoy's voice was sugarcoated, but McGonagall was too cool to miss that.  
  
"I should hope not, Mr. Malfoy. The Headmaster has made it clear that any student who dwells on business that does not belong to them will find themselves in numerous detentions."  
  
Malfoy looked like he was biting his tongue to keep from responding, and Harry could only guess that the sentence was going to involve the words, "I'm telling my father," but Malfoy kept his trap shut and headed back to his own table. Hermione gave Professor McGonagall a weak, but appreciative smile, repositioning her face downward after. McGonagall nodded briskly, walking away, but not before patting Hermione encouragingly on the way.  
  
"How are you feeling today?" Harry asked, feeling ashamed that he hadn't asked Hermione earlier. He felt odd around her; she was carrying the child of his sworn enemy, although against her will. He still felt like he should hate her, too, but couldn't bring himself to do it.  
  
"Alright," Hermione said quietly. "I've been sick every morning for the past few weeks and it gives me a terrible headache."  
  
"I can imagine." Ron's face was twisted at the prospect of being physically ill every morning for several weeks. "On second thought," he added as an afterthought, "maybe I can't imagine."  
  
Hermione's life seemed to deteriorate from there on, yet her mood seemed to lift occasionally. Her grades were suffering because of her condition, yet several teachers seemed to take pity on her. She slept in, often, waking up to realize that she didn't really care she had missed class. She continued to study half-heartedly in the common room and Harry and Ron shared several glances, worried about their friend.  
  
On the odd occasion, Hermione felt her spirits lift. Madam Pomfrey warned her that it was an effect of the pregnancy she may like; despite her situation, Hermione sometimes felt so incredibly happy that she could have floated to classes. During those periods, she managed to study incredibly hard and have tons of fun with her friends before returning to the depressed version of herself.  
  
After a month of being on an emotional roller coaster, Hermione decided that she had had enough. She slammed her books shut one Thursday afternoon close to the middle of April. "I've had it!" she screamed to the cover of her book. "I can't take anymore! The whispering about me, the questions, the studying, the inquiries, the morning sickness, the headaches, the accusing stares from everyone! I can't do this anymore!" She immediately broke into violent sobs, causing Harry and Ron to jump to her side. Neville Longbottom ran to get Professor McGonagall and Ron helped Hermione sit down on the couch while Harry ran for a cup of tea. Gulping air heavily, she put her head in her hands.  
  
"I don't know what to do, Ron," she moaned. "I'm beginning to hate my life and I'm beginning to fear myself."  
  
"Fear yourself?" Ron was utterly perplexed at this statement. "How can you fear yourself?"  
  
She took a deep, calming breath. "I keep having dreams," she said and she could tell that Ron was thinking back to their fifth year and the dreams that Harry had been having. "Not like Harry's," she assured him. "I don't think. These are more nightmares than anything. I keep dreaming that Voldemort's coming back for the baby and me. I keep dreaming that he's coming back to haunt me for the child that I had for him. My child." She sat up straighter, wrapping her arms around her stomach tightly. "I want this baby, Ron," she said determinedly. "This is my baby, too, and despite his evil ways, I will raise this baby to be good and wholesome and not at all like that creep." Creep was one of the many terms floating around her mind, but seemed the most appropriate for the point she was trying to make.  
  
Ron looked mildly disappointed. "You want to keep the baby?" he asked, his eyes widening as she nodded her head. "Why?"  
  
"You wouldn't understand," she said, smiling faintly. "It's a woman thing."  
  
Ron noted that she didn't say, "Girl thing".  
  
Harry returned minutes later with a cup of tea and arrived at the same time as Professor McGonagall and Neville. The three of them appeared in the common room at the same time, bustling over each other to get to Hermione.  
  
"Here." Harry sounded out of breath as he handed her the cup of tea. She thanked him earnestly and Professor McGonagall studied her closely.  
  
"Are you alright, Miss Granger?"  
  
Hermione smiled. "Yes, Professor. I've made a decision about what I'm going to do with my baby."  
  
Professor McGonagall's eyes widened at the sound of "my baby" but she nodded and said, "Let's go find Professor Dumbledore now." She was going to add, "Before you change your mind," but thought better of it. By the sound of it, she already knew what Hermione's decision was and maybe it would be better if she did change her mind. 


	9. Emotions Run High

"I can't explain it, Professor." Hermione was patiently pacing the floor of Dumbledore's office, aware that both Dumbledore and McGonagall's eyes were on her at all times. "It's just something within me that speaks and says I should keep this baby." She stopped pacing the floor and stared at them. "I know I can help this innocent child," she said softly. "I know that I can teach it to be good and respectable and not at all like the father."  
  
Professor McGonagall opened her mouth to object, but Professor Dumbledore interrupted her. "I see, Miss Granger. Well, your choice is your own. You may go."  
  
Hermione gave a little skip as she left the room. She was going to keep her baby! And she knew that she could raise her child to be decent and loving. It would just take patience.  
  
After Hermione had disappeared from sight, McGonagall turned to Dumbledore, her mouth ajar. "Albus, are you sure this is a wise decision?"  
  
Dumbledore shook his head lightly. "Minerva, I'm afraid that this is a lesson in which we cannot aid Miss Granger. It must be a lesson which she will learn on her own."  
  
"That's a pretty harsh lesson, Albus."  
  
"I know, Minerva. But we cannot interfere. It is Hermione's body and her decision. Not ours."  
  
Over the next few weeks, Hermione became increasingly aware of the child within her. Although it was virtually impossible to feel any movement whatsoever, she was completely attentive to every flutter she felt against her insides. Being nine weeks along, she was beginning to experience the fun side of pregnancy. She and Ginny spent countless hours in the library, pouring over old books, looking for names.  
  
"I like Annabella," Ginny said, after putting down "A Wizard's Fairy Tale Book". Picking up another one, she said, "It's got a pretty ring to it."  
  
"And if it's a boy?" Hermione planned on being prepared for anything.  
  
"Ericbella," Ginny joked and Hermione laughed, her first real laugh in almost two months.  
  
"Ericbella Granger," Hermione mused to herself. "That should go over well with my parents." It was meant to be a light joke, but Hermione had reminded herself of the dreadful reaction her parents had to her pregnancy. At first, both her parents agreed that she should terminate the pregnancy, although Dumbledore tried to convince them that Hermione had made her own decision. Then, after much debate and deliberation, Hermione convinced her parents that she felt the strong urge to keep her baby. Her parents, being Muggles didn't completely understand the power of Lord Voldemort, so they reluctantly agreed with the entire conversation ending in tears from every angle.  
  
"How about Morfudd?" asked Ron as he and Harry approached the girls.  
  
"Morfudd? Ronald Weasley, how many times have you been dropped on your head?" Ginny questioned.  
  
"Not nearly enough," Harry joked, poking his friend in the head.  
  
"That's unholy," Hermione replied to Ron's input. "Morfudd Granger." She began to giggle and within minutes, all four of them were in hysterics, getting kicked out of the library in the process.  
  
Hermione felt considerably lighter with her emotional baggage during those days. She was often able to laugh and talk as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening. She attended her classes and prepared for the upcoming exams that were going to take place in less than two months. She began making plans for the summer, ignoring the odd distraught feeling that settled itself in the pit of her stomach.  
  
"Fifteen more Muggles were pronounced dead at the scene of the crime on Tuesday evening," read Ron from the pages of the Daily Prophet one morning at breakfast. "Although the culprit is unknown, it seems as if this would be the work of the Dark Lord who returned nearly two years ago."  
  
Hermione shook her head sadly. It was at times like these that she felt incredibly sick to her stomach that she was going to be mothering the child of this demon. But you're a decent person, she told herself. There's no way that this child can grow up to be as evil as him.  
  
"Funny, how the Daily Prophet is so quick to assume it was Voldemort when two years ago, they believed I was a crackpot for saying he had returned." Harry's voice interrupted her thoughts. "How odd."  
  
"It's not odd, my friend," piped up Ron, putting down the paper. "It's complete and utter lunacy to me."  
  
"Fifteen people," Hermione muttered under her breath. She had felt more and more emotional lately and burst into tears frequently, especially when her quill ran out of ink. "That's fifteen lives, fifteen human beings, fifteen souls lost." Her voice quivered and faded as Harry and Ron looked at her with sad eyes. "It's such a waste."  
  
Harry nodded slowly. "I completely agree." He heaved a heavy sigh. "One of these days he's going to get what he deserves and I, for one, am not going to feel sorry in the least." His eyes were dark and glinting and Hermione could tell that he was thinking of his parents and the other tragedies he had endured due to Voldemort.  
Even after they left the Great Hall for classes, Hermione couldn't shake the guilty feeling that was gnawing at her inside. Harry, not to mention countless thousands, had suffered deeply at the hands of Voldemort. The Ministry, as well as the Order, was doing everything in their power to stop him and hinder any chances that another Voldemort may be born from one of his faithful Death Eaters after Voldemort was gone. And here was Hermione Granger, top Hogwarts student, model Head Girl, a pregnant teenager, carrying the Dark Lord's child. It wracked on her nerves what she could possibly be doing to the world that she loved so much. 


End file.
